


The need for touch

by SWModdy



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Drama, M/M, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:47:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 10,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28488537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SWModdy/pseuds/SWModdy
Summary: The assumption is Djarin is a beta.The assumptions are wrong and Paz has a minor heart attack
Relationships: Din Djarin/Paz Vizsla
Comments: 144
Kudos: 947
Collections: Movies





	1. Bead of blood

The potential for a fight always gets Mandalorian’s geared up.

Everyone of them tense, hard wired for the fight, witnessing or taking sides even with the Armorer defusing the situation as Din pulls his blade away, his moves smooth.

The taller alpha gave one last snarl before doing the same.

But then Paz Vizla froze, visor focused on Djarin as he remained sitting at the Armorer’s table.

The knife had nicked the skin of the smaller man in the almost fight.

A thin roll of blood was on Vizla’s knife, rolling lightly over the metal in the dim light, more likely hidden beneath their beroya helmet and kute.

But that wasn’t what had frozen Vizla, a knife wound was to be expected with where he put the blade, no, it is the scent reaching slowly but steadily through the compound had reached him first.

Inside his armor and his kute, Djarin had been as good as scentless, most likely coupled with scent blockers their hunter had collected when out of the Covert. A good thing when one was a bounty hunter, those who realized approved of the decision, though no one in the covert had, though others outside it had.

Greef Karga was very careful with which bounties he gave one of his best and if he was honest, favorite bounty hunters.

Those who didn’t made assumption about Djarin.

Beta.

But with the release of blood came the release of scent, barely caught through the filters of their helmets but _there_.

Omega.

Not just any kind of omega either.

No, a highly fertile one as strong as the scent was even through helmet filters, tinged with distress, uncertainty present in their scent and sharp, sour, _hurt_.

This was the last thing that had been expected, Mandalorian’s weren’t stupid about designations but having their sole beroya turn out to be an omega…

It rattled bones when they were so few already.

Anything could happen out there. And omegas thrived on contact, it was why most of the omegas of the tribe made more than one bond, to continue on the human contact they needed.

Hell, even the Armorer, solitary by nature of her personality and her role as a leader, had two bonded mates even if she had no children, not even foundlings.

Others had bonded family packs, siblings or parents and not just mates, giving them the contact they needed.

Djarin had been the sole beroya of the clan since his father died, always going, always leaving and not bonding to anyone in that manner.

Had been alone on the Razor Crest since, with no one to hold, no one to touch, no one to look after them when their heat hit.

He simply settled into the pack every time he returned, part of it but not bonded to anyone closely.

“A surprise this is,” The Armorer finally said, resting her hands on the table, quite clearly staring though what she was thinking, no one knew. But there was a question in that voice. “You… presented late.” It wasn’t a question now.

The beroya still nodded in answer, his own hands settled on the table too, away from his weapons. “Buir let me choose, said I should tell whenever I was ready. Then he died.” Djarin’s dark T-visors stares straight at the Armorer. “The Covert needed me.”

That answered everything and yet nothing.

A late presenting, after he got into his armor.

Potential genetic, stress from his life or just a random quirk of Djarin’s, waiting until he was far past swearing the resol’nare, waiting until he was stuck in his armor and away from the Covert with only his buir around.

A buir that took in him, gave him his name, who respected his son enough to let him decide.

A buir, who had been killed on their hunt.

A young but capable beroya, their only one, well aware that he was their only beroya after the Purge and the death of his father, their means to many credits and information, though others went up for shorter trips than Djarin himself.

A new one would take longer to train, maybe longer than they really could afford, their foundlings needing what Djarin could provide via credits, which bought them food, medicine, comforts and all the things a foundling would need.

And so Djarin said nothing and simply made due with what he had.

Who knew how many wires that had crossed in the omegas brain, starved for touch, starved for bonds and starved for contact.

And too late to do anything about right now as Din simply left the beskar to the Armorer and went to find his space, deftly avoiding anyone as he covered the bloodied cut on his neck with a gloved hand.


	2. I kneel

It could blamed on the day, the entire week, the revelation or something else but for whatever reason, Din is distracted as he comes out of his room, sans armor except for his helmet as he steps into hallway.

Sporting simply his helmet and his suit, not even his cape, makes him look so much smaller for all his lean muscles.

His durasteel cuirass, vambrace, pauldron, cuisse and greaves left behind for some reason, maybe the other is going for a shower, maybe for once he’s letting himself be vulnerable, maybe it needs to be polished and repaired.

Paz doesn’t know.

Doesn’t really care.

It makes what he does next easier as he swipes out of the shadows and catches the smaller man, lifting Din clean off his feet as he traps the other against the wall. But he ensures his arm is between the others back and the wall, his hand cupping Din’s helmet.

He’s not here to harm him but talking with Din isn’t easy on a good day.

Djarin is not having good days lately and Paz is not here for a fight.

Its why his hand shifts the moment he has Din captured, feeling the others legs come up, likely to knock into his stomach as his hands grab onto Paz pauldrons.

But Paz hands closes around the back of the others neck before that, scruffing the other as he gripped.

His breath catches when instantly Din hands fall lax and his feet drop. Din is stupidly strong and its a bit heady to have caught him off guard and capturing him like this despite Paz not angling for a fight.

“Vizla…” Din still manages to growl, despite the scuffing, despite his body going lax and his muscles responding to the release of endorphins the scruffing does. It says something about the trust Din at least has in the pack, brings Paz some relief.

Because Paz admits now what he didn’t want to admit the other day.

He’s worried.

Worried about Djarin, about _Din_.

He has been for years now, even as a beta, separating from the pack isn’t easy and he knows that bounty hunting work isn’t easy on the heart or the mind.

After this, he _knows_ that the wires of the others head has been crossed.

The fact that the other isn’t fighting him, just dangles between Paz and the wall clues him in too, Din’s toes barely scruffing the floor.

He’s not sure but this close, Din should be able to smell Paz as much as Paz can smell Din and he can’t help but wonder when the last time someone touched the other kindly. It is why Paz eases the his grip lightly, thumbing carefully over where he thinks the scent gland is.

Din lets out a low noise, the vocoder scrambling it so Paz can’t tell if its good or bad, but he continues. “Ni ceta.” He whispers quietly.

He feels more than he sees Din stiffen.

Clearly the other knows for what but not the _why_.

Paz can’t explain, not really, everything had just boiled over for him.

He was so tired of hiding, so tired of fearing the Empire, even the remains. And Din working _with_ them when Paz was so worried about the other hit all the wrong spots.

Mixed in with his recent rut, Paz will admit that he took it all the wrong way and let his aggression speak where his concern should have.

But Paz has never been a subtle man, it is not his way, not the way of the Vizla.

Loud and proud, that’s the Vizla clan and yet here they are, hiding in a sewer.

But to take it out on a packmate… it was too far.

And even worse, revealing Din to the rest of the pack.

Exposing an omega, when they were so few now, was a thing of shame and had there been any aruetii around to smell him, to know, Paz would have…

Well, he’s grateful there were none.

Just as he’s grateful now as he presses a bit closer to the others neck, the smell coming in from under the helmet.

Omega, still stressed, still sour, but not hurt, the other had put bacta on it.

Good. “Ni ceta.” He simply repeated again, easing his grip slowly so he could set Din on his feet, bending his back to keep his arm between the other and the wall.

Din clung to his cuirass, wobbly footed from the scruffing but not pulling away. “…Ni ne linibar gar baatir.” He finally hissed and yet his body remained pliant, his usually graveled tone slurred.

Paz simply thumbed gently at the hidden gland. ‘Of course you do, even if you won’t admit it. If not mine then someone else, anyone. Child, parent or bondmate.’ He thought sadly. Din’s behavior made so much more sense now. Din was so used to no one worrying or caring properly that he felt wrong footed by it.

Slowly, Paz shifted his head from the others neck to gently clink their foreheads together, hearing Din’s breath _hitch_. “Ni ceta.” Paz repeated once more, more than willing to grovel for Din’s forgiveness, standing in the hallway with the omega hidden by his own larger bulk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:
> 
> Ni ceta = Formal apology, ‘I kneel’ literally
> 
> ni ne linibar gar baatir = I don’t need your concern. I had to fudge this one a bit, since mando’a doesn’t have a word for ‘don’t. Linibar means need and with suggestion, its been edited to this now.
> 
> aruetii = outsider or traitor pretty much


	3. Din

Well, this was a situation Din had never expected.

How he had ended up in an alcove with Paz Vizla of all people, pressed up against him with only their helmets and flightsuits on, he wasn’t sure.

And he didn’t want to know as he pressed his helmet plating to the man’s shoulder, curled up in the large lap.

The damn alpha had come out of nowhere, scruffing Din when he had been about to go take a warm shower and try and dispel the uncertainty lingering in his veins with… well anything.

Hell, he had been tempted to get some spotchka, drink himself silly.

Maybe he’d be able to forget the look on the kids face then as he was lead away by the scientist.

Maybe.

His stomach curdled with unease once more at the memory and he squirmed only for Vizla’s hand to suddenly return to the back of Din’s neck, thumb once more pressing on his scent gland.

Instantly, his muscles turned soft again, Din letting out a low, garbled whine of contentment.

Since his father passed, no one had done this to him and Paz was being so respectful, his hands never going too low or trying to find skin.

No, the alpha kept his hands on fabric and kept them out of any intimate zones and while the removal of the gloves had almost gotten Din out of his skin at first, he had relaxed as Paz did something to him that no one else had in years.

Well, except that one time a bounty figured it out and had tried to take advantage of Din, but he’d driven his blade into the fuckers guts for trying, his instincts screaming at him with an unfamiliar alpha touching him.

Paz however was not an unfamiliar alpha.

For all the agitation and the almost fight, Paz was as familiar as the Armorer, a part of the pack, something that had been there since Din was rescued from the droids when his mother and father died, since his buir took him in, since he went into training.

Always steady and always there.

And safe in this moment.

Din was not a small man.

He knew he was lanky and he had muscles to match but compared to the alpha, whose lap he was sitting in, Din actually felt small.

Especially with that hand holding the back of his neck, scruffing him to release hormones and the other hand rubbing up and down Din’s back.

Through their kutes, Din could feel how _warm_ the other was and for a wild moment, he almost wished to take his helmet off to press his cheek to the others chest.

The sensations were almost enough to put Din to sleep.

His rest had not been good, not since he gave up the child to the Imp. His instincts had been clawing and screaming at him, for giving up a _child_ to someone that would hurt him for sure.

But in Paz lap, curled up into the alpha with the slow, gentle touches that had him tensing in the start…

It was different, his body was relaxing and his mind was filling with static.

Eyes blurry he peered at the blue cuirass resting beside them, Paz having removed all his armor to do this. He wondered how many had seen Paz out of his armor like this or at the very least, how many had been curled up into the man without the armor.

Not many Din suspected.

It felt nice to be one of the few, even if he knew that it was because he was an omega and the covet was on edge due to the revelation. No one would of course stop him from being a bounty hunter, but it was harder to let go of an omega alone into the galaxy he knew, when they were so few.

Every member, beta, alpha or omega, hurt them and they could ill afford to loose even one.

But an omega was guaranteed to carry, to give more than one youngling to the covet, loosing someone that could give more members were always worse.

Din remembered someone crudely once putting it as ‘you only need one bull among the cows for calves to be born.’ and while crude, the analog was right.

And Din…

He had wanted, lonely heats with only himself and his pathetic nest in the Razor Crest, he’d imagine sometimes even as he tried not to.

They’d let him go, as he always did, but they’d try to entice him back quicker, to help him find someone to bond to, be it platonic or romantic.

Din got it, he really did, omegas like him weren’t made for lonesomeness, not really, his mind craved the closeness of another person, someone to hold and cuddle as he forced himself forward. But the covet had needed him more.

“Are you still awake, beroya?” Paz rumbled, voice low but soft, cutting through Din’s thoughts.

Closing his eyes, Din just gave a sleepy noise, whining slightly when Paz hand on his spine paused.

There was a quiet chuckle, Paz shifting slightly against the wall as his hand went back to the steady rub.

Just for a little while, Din would let himself have what he craved, some pack contact.

And then he’d do his duty.

This was the way.


	4. I have a kid

He has a kid.

Sitting in the pilot seat, staring at the green, cooing thing, Din isn’t sure what to make of himself.

Hadn’t he so long ago sworn that he’d never be swayed by his own instincts, that he wouldn’t be _that_ kind of omega?

The ones media liked to portray, the omega with wide hips and a child on it with an alpha coming home from work to scent them?

Not that there was anything wrong with that way of life.

It just…

It wasn’t Din.

Din was not that kind of omega.

Din walked a lonesome road, flew among the stars, kept to himself and tried to hide his designation to avoid complications. Hell, the few times he had flown his old gang, he had always dismantled his nest and hid it.

He didn’t want to bother with them figuring it out.

But here he was, a child on his lap and a covet he had left behind to fend of the Imperial remains of a Moff, his instincts having screamed too loudly when he saw the hover pram in the trash.

The moment he had seen it, his mind had switched off and his instincts had kicked in.

Just hours earlier he had been in Paz Vizla’s lap, giving into said instincts.

Maybe they had been closer to the surface from, maybe it had been his own guilt, maybe Din was trying to give himself excuses, maybe it was a combination of all three.

But the end result was the same.

A child in his lap on the Razor Crest, his covet left behind and a bounty on his head more than likely, along with the kid.

And he didn’t even know what species it was or what his name was.

Dropping his head back, Din’s helmet made a thumping noise as he exhaled loudly, the kid staring back up at him while chewing on his hand. “…I’m not quite sure what to do now.” Din admitted quietly.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Din had given into his instincts and his covet was paying the price, while Din fled.

Like a _coward_.

He twitched and the kid gave a low, worried coo at him, Din closing his eyes before letting out a shaking breath. His scent must be sour again, Din wasn’t sure what to do about that.

There was nothing in his life to tell him how to deal with this.

Maybe if Din had reached out a little more to the rest of his pack, maybe if he had spoken to the Armorer, after all, as an omega and alor, she would know more, know better, maybe some way for Din to deal, so many maybe’s and nothing to do about them as he carefully lifted the kid and put him back in the pram.

Instead he forced himself to inhale and exhale steadily, forcing calm into his veins as he repeated the action four more times.

Least he felt calmer as he turned back to the kid, tilting his head slightly. “Don’t suppose you have any answers kid?” He questioned tiredly, only to get a soft coo and the kid chewing on his hand again.

Din blinked, turning back to the controls to put the Razor Crest into autopilot.

Then he stood and picked up the child. “I imagine they didn’t feed you properly in that lab,” He mused out loud, wondering when was the last time he had spoken this much to someone. “If you’re willing to choke down some rations, I got some food at least.” He moved out into the galley, heading to the small, very small, kitchen it had.

It would be at least something for the kid to eat… if he ate rations.

Honestly, Din wasn’t sure what this kid even ate and for a panicked little moment, he wondered if the kid was so young that he drank milk. Then his mind kicked in and reminded him that the little one had eaten a live frog for Manda’s sake.

It was very unlikely that the kids proximity would push Din’s body into producing milk.

He let out a shaken breath of relief, the kid squeaking up at him, as if questioning what was wrong _now_.

“Alright kid, lets see how you do with bland rations.” Din bounced him absently a bit, his brain pausing on the move before he just forced himself to get the ration bars out. ‘Just… roll with it Din, just roll with it.’


	5. Cobb

Wincing as the mando retched heavily inside his helmet, Cobb glanced about before shrugging at the worried looking bartender.

Being inside a krayt dragon wasn’t good on anyone’s health, even with a helmet to filter out most of the shit. There was bound to be bacteria and who knew what inside a creature that big but listening to the man retch helplessly and sit on the floor with his back to the wall and the kid cooing worriedly and patting at his knee with its tiny hand…

Well it tore Cobb’s heart up if he was honest, he had always been a softie of an alpha when it came to kids if he was honest. “Close down for the day? I’ll take him to my place if he doesn’t improve for the night but there’s hardly anyone but me here during the day anyway.” He murmured to the weequay.

Grimacing but knowing they owed the mando, the man simply nodded and lifted a bottle of water onto the table with a straw long straw in it.

Looked like the kind used for aliens with small mouths.

Well, it looked clean and some water was better than alcohol.

So Cobb took it and while the bartender closed down the door and shop, he went to the mando, settling down beside him. “Guess that trip home has to be put on hold huh.” He stated quietly, unsure if the others head was ringing as he held out the water bottle.

He also noticed the spittoon between the man’s leg.

Wait, had the other lifted his helmet?

Vomiting inside the helmet wouldn’t be fun but the other had been so gung ho about _not_ lifting his helmet… reminded Cobb a little of the tuskens honestly.

Not that he was about to say that.

Mando grunted a bit before weakly accepting the water, gloved fingertips brushing at the straw. “…Its just water, right?” He croaked, reaching out to rub the kids ears with gentle if shaking fingertips.

“Just water, promise. You can take my word on it.” Cobb swore.

The t-visor turned to him before the head bobbed, Cobb smiling in a little bit of satisfaction. Seems working together and handing the other the armor after earned him a little bit of trust.

His smile wiped when the other reached up and the seals of the helmet was released.

Not because the other did anything more than stick the straw under the helmet to drink.

No, it was the _scent_.

Pure and unadulterated _omega_.

Sick and unhappy, stressed and everything in Cobb suddenly sat up and took notice, shifted to shield the other from view.

“Holy maker.” He whispered, staring at the other man.

Now there was a surprise and a half, Cobb had seen some fierce omegas in his time but _this_?

Holy kark.

There was a little huff and then the straw was pulled back out, mando gagging again before whining quietly, his scent spiking with his distress, causing his kid to let out a cry of his own distress.

Like hell Cobb was going to let that slide.

He shifted closer on his knees and crooned quietly, reaching out and resting his hand on the others calf. “Oi, you okay with me taking off your chestplate?” He patted slightly at the others leg, not daring to raise it higher.

The other let out a grunt before groaning deeply and nodding.

Maybe it was the distress and sickness doing the talking, but it was clear mando needed a little bit of help and hell, this man took on a krayt dragon. Sure, he’d done it for the armor but Cobb knew he owed him a debt.

And familiar with the armor kind the man wore after wearing the other set, he quickly set to removing the chest plate as the mando continued retching.

“What are… you doing?” Came a low, groaned voice from the vocoder.

“Well, hopefully helping.” Cobb stated. With the helmet on, he doubted the other would react much to any pheromones Cobb released but with a little bit of luck, maybe…

He set the chest and back pieces aside and then shifted around again, settling his hand on the others back.

Instantly, mando went tense as a rod before jerking as he retched again and this time, he jerked the helmet up enough for Cobb to see a thin, pink mouth with a trimmed mustache over it, a chin with stubble as the other threw up water into the spittoon.

The helmet just as quickly came down and Cobb continued rubbing, feeling more than seeing the way the mando slowly relaxed.

Slowly he relaxed even more as Cobb carefully tucked the man’s dark cape around him, the scent of himself and his kid in it and let him curl into Cobb’s side as the kid quickly wiggled his way up under and while that couldn’t have been so good for the stomach, mando simply mumbled softly to the green kid.

The helmet wasn’t so pleasant against his head Cobb would admit.

But hey, for someone who rescued them, he’d stick it out.

And for a sick omega, Cobb was willing to do a lot more. “Rest up mando, I got your six.” He murmured quietly, hand slowly and steadily rubbing over a strong back, giving the barkeep an ornery stare when he oogled at them with wide eyes.


	6. When honest

Sometimes, just sometimes if he was very, very honest with both himself and the kid, Din would think about trying to find other mandalorians.

From his covert.

Finding out if they had joined another covert or maybe made a new one if enough of them had survived. The Armorer had confirmed that some of them had escaped and he knew the none-combatant, the few elderly and the foundlings they had at the very least escaped.

Though calling them noncombatant wasn’t quite right.

After all, no mandalorian, with or without a weapon, could be called harmless.

There were just some that weren’t front line fighters and would be ushered to safety before others.

There was no shame in it.

Warriors past their prime that had lived a long life of fighting and children yet to become soldiers or swear their resol’nare.

Yet still able to to defend themselves.

And Din, despite all the days he had flown off of and out into the galaxy, wanted to find them, settle his own foundling into the care of the pack, maybe eat a proper meal that he didn’t have to buy…

Oh, Din was a horrible cook, he was more than willing to admit that and therefore set aside credits to buy food the kid could eat out with, proper food with proper nourishment, like the bone broth.

It had a lot of minerals and vitamins, something Din figured the kid needed considering he ate a whole frog.

Rehydrated rations were a maker-sent blessing, since Din’s diet could be… solitary.

Considering he somehow managed to set fire to the Razor Crest little kitchen last time he tried to make something proper, it was better that way.

His cupboards prior to the child was mostly full of rehydrated bread pouches, cups of noodles and ration bars. Oh and a dish of salted blue butter, if you used warm water, you got warm bread and Din enjoyed the melted salty butter taste it got when it was warm.

But all of that made him think of the covert, made him think of the kitchen in the covert, about the mix of betas, alphas and omegas that made meals everyday for the entire covert to come and eat if they wanted.

Never a morsel wasted, leftovers always used and always enjoyed, food eaten later if they didn’t show up during the actual dinner time.

And if he in particular thought of Paz Vizla, settled in front of one of the stoves with a large pot of tiingilar, the alpha laughing as he added beer and spices to the dish along with soft bread to dip into the sauce and get every little bit of delicious spot of sauce, it was just because of the food.

It was very good food.

Full of warmth and filling and Din always made sure to grab a full bowl of it once he was sure Paz was out of view due to how conflict filled their relationship was, not wanting to bloat the alpha’s head.

That thought lead him to a dark alcove, armors off with thick arms wrapped around Din, a low alpha rumbling in his ear as Din let himself _rest_.

So far, Din had meet several alphas, hell, he had even started weaning himself off his suppressors and only wore the scent removers when his anxiety got the better of him.

Oh the look on Xi’an and Ranzar’s faces had been _precious_ , Din had laughed himself to tear about it for days after.

But none of those alphas measured up to Paz.

And maybe, in those secret little wishes, his fantasy hoped that Paz was alright, that the alpha was… waiting on him.

“I think I got my head screwed on wrong,” He sighed, looking at the kid as he paused in eating a cookie. “…Where in the world did you get that?” The kid of course just cooed at him before giggling.

Bemused, Din watched him before shaking his head slowly.

Well, this was the same kid that ate a live frog, so at this point he was sure that an old cookie wouldn’t harm him, because Din seriously could not remember buying in any cookies in a long while.

Or maybe the kid stole it in their last planet hop.

Sounded like him, little mischievous womp rat.

The thought was fond however and Din released his belt to stand, moving over to pick the kid up and settle him on his hip. “So, lets go see about this Jedi that Kryze talked about, huh?” He bounced him a bit, lips twitching into a smile when the kid instantly cooed and giggled.

The dip in the ocean hadn’t been too good for Din but at least he wasn’t feeling as under the weather and having the kid like this… well it helped.

Having weaned himself off his suppressors, his instincts were helping out too and he lifted him up to his neck, feeling an ear brush his neck before there was a noise and the kid made happy little cooing noises.

This close, the kid could smell Din like no one else had, the lack of suppressors, no scent wipers and the closeness to the slight opening in his kute not keeping the smell as wrapped up as Din used to.

Rubbing the kids back, Din wondered…

Would Paz like his scent?

He had been virtually scentless or upset when they were together last, no clear read on him due to that. But Paz had tried to scent him as best he could with his wrists pressing gently to the few exposed areas Din had, leaving his own scent on Din even if Din had no scent.

But now he was without chemical altering in his systems, he’d soon be fully done weaning himself and with the little gaps in his kute…

That was if Paz was even alive, Din hadn’t seen his helmet in the pile but…

He tightened his grip on the kid.

No, he had no other choice but to think that Paz was alright, he was a Vizla.

And a big shabuir like him would fight to survive and to protect.

The kid tapped his clawed hand on Din’s pauldron, cooing more worriedly now and Din let out a shuddering breath. “Its alright pup, I’m just… thinking. Just thinking.” Din whispered, smiling sadly when he felt the little one stroke gently between the nooks of his pauldron and cuirass.

For a moment, he was tempted to pull off his helmet, to press a kiss to the little one’s head.

He settled for a gentle ear stroke, humming quietly as the kid settled and went back to eating what was left of the cookie, the two cuddled up into each other for just a few precious moments.

Neither thought about the fact that maybe in a few days, Din might have to give up on the child or the pain that would come with separation.

No, for just a few moments, the galaxy didn’t exist, only they and the Razor Crest did.


	7. Had him clocked

To be honest, Boba had the mandalorian clocked the moment he saw him, zipping over the dunes on his speeder and the few interactions he had seen before the man had left Tatooine.

He had known even before he was close enough to smell the other man or speak to him that this was an omega. It was all in the way the other behaved around the child, the way he kept him safe and yes, the creed of the mandalorians made children the most important thing.

But not everyone acted with younglings like an omega on instincts.

It was in the way the man kept scenting the child as best he could with what little skin he had exposed, in the way he cradled him close and Boba had seen others like the mandalorian before.

Omegas with pups had a certain way about them.

His own father had been the same and Jango was always fresh in Boba’s mind, even as he had lost the memory of his father’s voice and the way he smelled with the years.

But the way he behaved, the way he cradled Boba close to his chest and pressed his scent to Boba’s skin… no, that was something Boba would never forget.

It was one of the things that had made Boba hate his own alpha designation in his younger years when he finally presented, wanting to claw himself out of his skin as he wished for that connection to his father.

But he had been an unaltered clone, his designation, just like his personality, had formed on its own and sometimes he wondered if his buir would have been proud to see his son an alpha or just not really cared one way or another.

The clones had all been without secondary genders, except for the alphas and the nulls, the earliest of the clones where the Kamino’s had still been working on the DNA sequences. So maybe Boba should just be grateful he had a designation.

He had seen the issues the clones went through without having one, the way humans reacted to them, the way they seemed to be considered less. Some of them had even reacted that way to Boba when they saw his face, until they realized he wasn’t just a clone with a fake scent but a true alpha, ready to kark them up.

Boba had his designation and he had his life and he had made peace with many things in his life.

But what he couldn’t make peace with was the scent of distressed omega, the alpha in him sitting up and taking notice even as he tried to keep his distance.

He had a duty to help the man find his foundling for returning the armor, seeing how Djarin had lost _everything,_ Boba might be the best one that could help him.

At least in the ship department and Boba was a capable man, his scar and stint in the sarlacc had done nothing to ruin his skills if they had turned rusty inside it. Training and muscle memory had fixed that however once he was out, hunting for his armor.

And Boba owed him a debt, one Djarin could trust, that Boba wouldn’t suddenly turn on him like the rest of the galaxy could.

Being in Slave 1, the scent was hard to escape and even Fennec was starting to show discomfort at it, the beta often glancing towards the hold where Djarin had holed up, manically checking, dismantling, cleaning and setting together his weapons again.

Finally, Boba let out a deep sigh and stood from the controls, giving Fennec a nod to take the controls before making his way to the doors. He could hear the woman’s relief as she switched seats.

Clearly she thought he’d deal with it and Boba intended to.

But if he was successful, that was something else.

Djarin is sitting on an ammo crate in the hold, a blaster in hand, simply cradling the weapon as if he realizes he can’t do more with it but can’t bring himself to put it down, as if he wishes he was cradling something else with how gentle his gloved hands are. Even without the scent, Boba would have been able to tell that this was a miserable man.

The bounty hunter sits slumped, his head bent down and he doesn’t even twitch when Boba steps in.

If it wasn’t for the way he was breathing, Boba could have been forgiven for thinking the man asleep.

Slowly, so not to set the other of, Boba makes his way over and sits down beside him, looking at the hands cradling the blaster. “…We’ll get him back to you,” He murmured quietly, watching the armor jerk a bit. “My debt to you isn’t over until your pup is with you.” Boba promised softly, carefully releasing some of his scent.

It could go either way, doing it but the mando slowly tilted his head towards Boba and he could hear the other take a breath, pause then breath even deeper, twitching slightly on the crate.

If Boba was to take a guess, he’d imagine the omega wanted to press closer.

But Boba was a stranger, an unfamiliar alpha, to shift closer now was simply instincts and not caution and logical thoughts speaking.

But seeing as how his scent was helping, Boba released more of it, the distressed omega scent lessening slowly.

Sighing, Boba reached up and removed his helmet, ignoring how the mando twitched. Those who followed the Watch Creed was always a bit iffy about exposed faces. Never got it himself and Boba knew of enough mando that removed their helmets.

It was the loss of armor that was the real sanction for becoming dar’manda, not showing your face.

But to each their own and since the scent of distressed omega didn’t grow, Boba set his helmet down beside his feet, focusing on Djarin again. “…Think about your child scent.” He murmured quietly.

A quiet whine escaped the bounty hunter.

Slowly, Boba reached out and settled his hand on the others vembrace. “Think about the way you’ll hold him when you get him back,” He pushed gently. “Think about what you’ll say to him,” Djarin let out another whimper, dropping his forehead to Boba’s pauldron. “Think about what you’ll do to that demagolka that took him… and draw strength from all of it.” A small but sharp growl escaped the vocoder of the other.

Boba wasn’t sure if he had really helped the feisty, distressed omega but the scent of distressed omega had lessened, replaced by Boba’s own pheromones and the scent of _angry_ omega.

The sharp kind of scent.

The kind of scent that made mandalorian alphas sit up and take notice as it was the kind of omega they wanted. The kind of scent that warned everyone to be on their best behavior or they would get fucked up.

Moff Gideon better have an army on his cruiser when they caught up with him and the child Boba thought with satisfaction, because he had a storm coming.

A storm in the form of a very pissed of, very protective omega. “Jate, we’ll get him back.” Boba promised, squeezing the others forearm gently.


	8. Giving up a pup

If Boba was asked, he’d wonder if Skywalker’s nose worked or if he was just heartless because he couldn’t understand how the Jedi had accepted the pup when Din came back smelling like _that._

Like pain, grief and sour loss that seemed to be sending Dune into a tizzy as Din swayed towards the ramp and a waiting Boba.

It hadn’t escaped Boba that the Nite owl alpha at Kryze side was wearing her helmet and staying far back even as Kryze followed, the redhead’s face taunt even she tried to get the man to fight her there and then for the darksaber.

At least one of them had respect enough not to hassle Din right in that moment, even if her leader was trying to get a fight out of the man.

It made Boba’s lips pull into a snarl at the sight as he stepped down to grasp the taller man by the shoulder.

Boba didn’t put up with that shit and had pulled Din into the bowels of Slave 1, Dune and Kryze snarling at each other on the ramp with Shand quickly slipping up to the cockpit to get them ready to leave, recognizing that Boba would deal with the bounty hunter.

Boba focused on the broken omega, his hand resting on his shoulder as he pushed and pulled the man along slowly and steadily until he had Din in his quarters.

Din barely twitched at entering the alpha’s territory, one he had made clear to everyone to not enter.

But Din…

Boba couldn’t leave him just in the cargo hold in the makeshift beds right now, not with the grief practically wafting off him.

He could feel every instinct he had suppressed for years come roaring to life, telling him to protect and kill for the omega, telling him that his new packmate was in danger.

There was nothing he could do though, the danger was already past and done and now Din had to cope.

Which was why Boba carefully unlaced and undid the others armor, his concern rising when he didn’t even get a token protest, simply Din swaying on his feet.

“Easy…” He rumbled, setting Din’s helmet on his own armor stand for now, noting that it would need polishing as he set the darksaber on a weapon hook and the beskar spear to the wall.

Taking the helmet from the other man, he noted with even more concern that the back of it was slightly dented in, wondering what kind of force could do that kind of damage and quickly he grasped the other by the chin to look at his eyes.

It didn’t look like the other had a concussion, his pupils weren’t large or unfocused.

He simply looked… lost, standing in his kute in front of Boba, blinking down at him.

Boba still checked on the back of the others head, running his fingers through sweat stiff hair with gentle fingers. There was a tell tale sign of a bump back there but not much else thankfully, so, with his armor now on the stand, Boba guided Din to the bed and Boba’s den.

He carefully had the man settle down on the edge and then knelt, ignoring his aching knees as he did, undoing the others boots and pulling them off, grimacing internally as he noted the other wasn’t wearing socks and a quick check confirmed to him that Din had blisters on the heels of his feet. ‘Di’kut.’ He thought sadly, wondering if that was aimed at himself or at Din.

Not that he blamed the other too much, having lost everything on his ship outside of what he was wearing, a gear shift ball and a beskar spear.

“Why?” The soft, raspy voice made Boba look up, meeting those large, lost eyes.

Reaching up slowly, trying not to spook the other, Boba cupped Din’s cheek, watching how the others eyelids fluttered slightly at the touch. “…We could be pack,” Boba rumbled quietly, watching the others eyes focus on him again. “But regardless, right now, you’re hurting and I won’t leave you to hurt without doing something to sooth it, until you’re sound of mind.” He stated quietly.

Din simply stared at him before quietly hunching over and wrapping his arms around himself, shaking with silent tears. 

Slowly, Boba encouraged the other down and into his den, let Din turn around towards the wall and curl up around one of the large pillows he had invested for his den.

Boba knew that the main bedroom of Slave 1 was a luxury for a ship and in that moment, he was grateful that he had invested in making a proper den in it as he let the omega cry, his potential packmate seeking comfort and safety of Boba’s nest.

He felt the ship vibrate, Fennec finally getting them out and away from the cruiser but didn’t move, remained kneeling by the bed as he instead settled his hand on Din’s head, stroking the man’s temple with his thumb. “That’s it… just let it out… just let it out.” Boba whispered quietly, sitting with the other as Din let himself cry for all the losses he had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Di'kut = Idiot


	9. Reunion

Nevarro.

The place where it all began.

Watching Cara step down the ramp to meet with Greef, Din blearily tilted his head to look around, taking in how little had changed since the last time he was there.

Sand and sun with the mid-morning heat making everyone lazy, that was all there was with a scattering of people that weren’t taking naps to avoid the worst of the sun.

He only half noticed Greef jerking to in surprise, could feel the beta’s eyes on him. Greef had after all known what Din was from the get go, he had been there when Din returned from a hunt, fresh from his presentation.

He had also been the one to give Din not only scent blockers but also suppressors.

Just long enough to keep Din stable, so he could get his own supply, gruffly stating that Din was one of his best hunters and he’d rather not have anything happen to him.

Concern hidden by his desire for value, not that Din back then had been able to see it, he had been too worried about Greef using the information somehow.

Now he knew that Greef Karga was a friend and in that moment, he had a need for friends.

His eyes landed on the statue of the IG-11, his heart jumping a bit.

Kuiil and it had been the first ones to sacrifice themselves for Grogu, the first ones who had died for him to protect him as far as Din knew.

But knowing how old Grogu was, there was a large chance that they had not been the first.

They were the first since Grogu became his ward.

The ward he had to give away, the foundling that had become…

His scent must have twisted, because suddenly Boba was there, pressing their arms together as he rumbled to him.

His maybe packmate.

Boba and Shand were going to Tatooine, they had only stopped in Nevarro to drop Cara off and resupply since this was a safer place than most to them.

Mostly thanks to Cara.

There wasn’t really much for him anymore, his covert was gone, his pack was scattered if they had survived, his ship was destroyed and even his kit was now in the hands of another because Din could not protect him from the remains of the Empire.

Going with Boba, leaving behind the memories of what was here on Nevarro despite knowing he had a place in Greef bounty hunter guild… well, it sounded like the better option.

Boba was angling to overthrow what was left of the hutt cartel on Tatooine, not that the hutts were that strong thanks to the Empire.

They hadn’t let the hutts keep a strong threshold on the galaxy.

Looking at it, it was almost like the Empire had been trying to wipe out most of the other species of the galaxy unless they had some kind of use, making humanity its core. Getting rid of those that were combative, like the mandalorians and lasats and then moving on to those it thought of as scum with no worth.

‘Not that I’ve ever meet a decent hutt in my life.’ Din mused tiredly, wondering if there were decent hutts in the galaxy.

Tatooine, with the tuskens, sounded like a far better option. Maybe he could visit White Bantha, the clan he had lived with for a while, Boba respected the tuskens as much as Din did and wouldn’t mind if Din wander- “Djarin!”

A loud, familiar voice called out, almost echoing between the buildings and Din’s heart leapt to his throat from the sheer shock of hearing it.

He looked around almost spastically, eyes wide behind his visor before his eyes landed on the all too recognizable blue armor.

Paz.

It was Paz, stepping out from between two white buildings, his gait rushed and his helmet locked on Din with such focus he could almost feel the intensity of the gaze behind the visor.

Alive, Paz was alive.

A sob unwittingly escaped Din at the sight, the sound garbled to static by the vocoder of his helmet as he stepped forward on shaking legs, feeling like a newborn colt.

Unnoticed by him, Boba, Shand, Cara and Greef had leveled their weapons at Paz, only to pause when Din called back. “Vizla!” Din called out, crashing into Paz large chest, feeling those thick arms coming up around him in a familiar embrace. “Paz, Paz he’s gone. He’s gone. I gave him away. Paz.” He sobbed out, his knees giving out from under him as he clung to the others cuirass.

Paz rumbled loudly, shifting his arms around Din to support him. “Din. Din you need to calm down. Udesii, udesii beroya.” The blue armored man finally just outright lifted him.

Another time, Din would have marveled at the display of strength, another time he would have flushed and maybe squirmed.

He wasn’t a light man after all, especially not in his armor.

But that was not now as he lifted his legs to wrap around the alpha’s waist, right now he was baring his soul to his alor and maybe someone who was more. Right now he needed Paz to be both comfort and judgment, even if the latter didn’t seem to be inclined to judge anything and Din didn’t seem to be able to explain himself well.

“My kit is gone.” Din admitted weakly what he hadn’t wanted to admit before.

That Grogu had become not only his foundling but his _kit_ , his child in all but blood.

Blood of the covenant is stronger than water of the womb.

It was something he had heard his buir say once, holding Din tightly to his chest with his chin resting on Din’s curly head and now he understood what it had meant.

Paz stiffened, his arms going almost painfully tight around Din before he crooned, deep in his chest and so loudly it rattled Din’s helmet.

But it felt good to hear and Din pressed his audial to the others cuirass, breaking down into wordless but loud crying.

The kind of crying he had not allowed himself in Boba’s den but right now, in Paz arms…

He would let himself cry over Grogu, cry over the unfairness of the galaxy, cry over his own inability to keep his pup safe.

Cry for the covert.

And maybe, somewhere in those tears, he was crying for himself and everything he had lost as Paz held him together.


	10. Comfort for the lost

The other’s body feels so small under him.

Its not that Din really is small but compared to Paz, he has always been smaller and he’s making himself smaller in this moment as he’s quivering, legs twitching and his breathing hitched as he shudders through half stifled sobs into the sheets.

His adiik is gone.

When the Armorer had contacted Paz, given him Din trajectory, Paz hadn’t been sure what to think. After Nevarro, after being exposed, after Din had stolen the adiik and the covert exposing themselves so obviously, they all fled with only a smaller guard kept behind to ensure the Imperials wouldn’t find the others.

A suicide mission, the people who took it had known that the likelihood of surviving it was smaller than a porg’s asshole.

Ships, normally stashed away in hidden caves and unused areas, were used to flee into the stars, some taking the foundlings and others going alone, everyone leaving their own trail or extinguishing them depending on if they were leading the Imperial trackers after them or trying to hide the younglings.

After all, they’d rather have the remains of the Empire tracing after the lone warriors and not the foundlings. The Armorer had stayed, everyone knew she would have, to try and scavenge what remained and try to keep the beskar in their hands as best she could.

It had been months and in all those months, trying cautiously to make contact with other mandalorians without attracting attention and surviving, Paz had spent the months thinking about Din and the quiet moments in the alcove, with of Din’s shaking body tucked in his lap, the tired grumble through the vocoder and the tiny traces of scent Paz had caught in the moment.

Paz had thought about the moments later, the way the soured scent had turned even softer with the adiik in his arms, the way Din’s arms had been protectively wrapped around the foundling that night.

The way it had looked _right_.

And now that foundling was gone once more.

There was a reason, a reason even Paz could understand, but for an omega, that had bonded to their child, to give them up despite knowing it was for their own protection…

It hurt.

Din was hurting so much when Paz had finally managed to track the other down on Slave 1.

He had barely noticed when Fett and the others had leveled blasters his way when he had come tearing over Nevarro’s sand, hadn’t cared as he had called for the stumbling man standing in the sun.

Honestly, it was good Din had friends, friends willing to shoot a beskar covered infantryman.

He had needed someone, especially after the covert was destroyed and they had all fled to each their corner of the galaxy.

Maybe they would have shot Paz if Din hadn’t recognized and been conscious enough to call Paz name back, Fett visibly twitching at the name Vizla but holstering his blaster still, the group watching as Paz pulled Din into his arms and the omega just folded against his chest.

Paz hadn’t cared at the time how close he had gotten to being shot, just so relieved to see Din at all, he had found the remains of the Razor Crest and at the time he had thought…

He had thought…

Dune had explained, Din leaning exhaustively against Paz chest, hands holding weakly onto the cuirasse. Paz couldn’t blame him, after everything he had gone through, from his the adiik being abducted, the hunt for information, to Gideon to the Jedi coming, ensuring their survival.

Only to return empty handed in the end.

No adiik.

A wound cutting deep and hard.

Karga had set them up with a place, the beta was fond of Din apparently and had understood that Din needed space, the scent of distressed omega curling around everyone as Din had run out of scent blockers with the destruction of the Crest and Fett had none, the alpha needing none himself and Shand being a beta herself.

It was a decent space, one where Paz took care of Din, carefully removing all his armor except the helmet before removing his own armor, guiding Din into his side as they sat on the bed.

Without the armor, Din was even smaller, just like that time in the alcove and the longer he sat against Paz, the more his body shook until low, hitched noises escaped him.

Paz wasn’t the others alpha, not really for all that he wanted but he was a packmate, despite them not bonding as deep as they should.

And with his heart in his stomach, shattering at every hitched sound, he had taken a chance and gently pressed Din down on the bed, covering the other up with his own body.

Just hoping, _hoping_ he was providing some comfort as he eased himself to cover up Din as best he could.

A physiological thing, Paz acting like a weighted blanket with pheromones as he tried to sooth and with the way Din had latched onto his kute, Paz knew that at the very least Din wanted him to stay.

But to listen to him sob under his helmet, pressing his own to the back of Din’s as he shook and twitched, it was breaking Paz soul and the alpha in him whined helplessly.

He wanted to help but could do nothing more but hold the other, crooning quietly as Din cried and cried and cried for a adiik he had given away.

Paz had never felt so useless and so helpless as in this moment.

Brushing his hand along Din’s side, as if gentling an animal, Paz crooned deeply. “I’m here Din. I’m here.” He whispered.

It was the only thing he could offer the omega, he couldn’t offer that things would be alright, he couldn’t offer to get the kid, he couldn’t offer anything but himself. But Manda, if it helped, then that was what he’d give.

All of himself.

He might have imagined it, but Din’s noises seemed to have grown slightly quieter as Din tucked himself even more under Paz body, his shaking not as severe.

Maybe he wasn’t as useless as he feared.


	11. Two alphas

Drawing his hand gently over Din’s chest, Paz pressed his palm to the warmth, listening quietly as he felt the steady beat of Din’s heart and his slow breathing.

Asleep.

Fully and deeply asleep, an exhausted sleep from his emotional overturn the night before.

Still, despite being reassured by how asleep Din was, Paz very slowly and very gingerly pulled away from the omega. He was terrified of waking the exhausted man, Din needed to sleep, even without seeing the others face, Paz had noticed the exhaustion in the slump of the others shoulders and body the day before.

Thankfully, Din barely reacted to Paz pulling away, only going as far as muttering softly and curling into the warm spot the alpha left behind, snuffling softly.

It made Paz heart ache a bit as he watched the other, wishing he could see the others face, stroke his hair, give him everything the other deserved.

Forcing himself to take a deep breath, Paz quietly moved to the fresher to do his business and then made his way out of the house. He wanted to find some decent breakfast for Din before he woke, something warm would be nice.

He knew that Din liked spicy things but he wasn’t sure that eating spicy things in the morning, especially after the breakdown Din had last night and the last couple of days of emotional turmoil would be so good.

Din needed something nourishing, filling but not too powerful in case his appetite had declined. ‘Eggs would be good, not sure I can get him to eat meat though, so no sausage… maybe an omelet and some warm bread rolls?’ Paz mused as he stepped out, not bothering putting on his armor or bringing his blaster canon for a quick food run, as naked as that made him feel.

He did bring his blaster and viroblade though as he stepped into the grey morning light of Nevarro, the temperature making his skin break out in goosebumps as it was fairly cold right before the sun rose fully.

Paz was fairly grateful that he took at least some weapons with him as the moment the door closed behind him, he heard the telltale click of a blaster safety being removed to his side, a blaster pressing into his side.

If someone was angling for a fight, Paz would give them it.

Paz tilted his head to look, pausing slightly when he looked at Boba Fett through his visor as the clone of Jango Fett stared back at him.

No, not just clone.

Son.

Paz, despite his buir grumbling about Jango Fett in his youth, knew enough to recognize that Boba Fett had been a son and not just a clone, fodder for the old Republic’s army.

Unaltered and pure, an alpha.

One that currently was holding a blaster to Paz side and if Paz wasn’t wrong, the sniper was on top of the roof, rifle likely angled down at him.

So, he kept still if tense, simply stared at Fett, recognizing that this was Din’s friend.

With both the sniper and the knowledge that this person was someone Din trusted, who was willing to protect him, Paz would give him the benefit of doubt, despite the blaster pressed into his side.

For a long minute, neither of them said anything in the grey light of Nevarro’s rising sun.

Then Fett spoke. “If you hurt him, I will feed you to the same sarlaac I once ended up in with your hamstrings slit, you will wish I killed you by the time its done with you. Do you understand me?” He growled faintly, his vocoder making the sound even more menacing than a normal alpha growl.

Paz cocked his head slightly, fighting the urge to growl back before nodding. “If I hurt him, I’d do the deed myself. He’s hurt enough.” He agreed quietly, holding his ground as Fett continued staring at him, could feel the other alpha’s narrowed eyes behind the green buy’ce as sweat started to bead on the back of Paz neck.

Finally, Fett grunted and tucked his blaster onto his belt, nodding slightly. “I wager he’s still asleep?” The man questioned.

Paz nodded. “There’s only water and some bland rations in the house, I wanted to find something better for him to eat. And return before he wakes up alone, he’s rather deeply asleep but I still want to hurry.” The statement was meet with an approving grunt before Fett nodded his head and started walking.

Taking the hint, Paz followed the other, noting the dark shape jumping down from the roofs and wandering of.

He had been right, the sniper had been on the roof as he suspected.

Fett lead him to his ship in the docking bay, up the ramp and into the cargo hold, the man digging around in a crate as Paz looked around, throwing a sealed pouch at him, Paz automatically catching it and tilting it to read. “…Cassius tea?” He rumbled quietly.

“Din deserves comfort food, cassius tea is also good for health,” Fett stated absently before moving to another crate. Honestly, Paz was more shocked that the bounty hunter had proper mandalorian tea if he was honest, even as he caught the next bag Fett threw at him. “Mealgrains with dried varos fruit. Its going to be enough to get him going at least, especially if you’re considering getting some eggs?” Paz could hear the silent question in those words and nodded quietly.

His nod was meet with another approving grunt. “Do you know where I could source some egg? Or any food?” He questioned.

He had been thinking of asking Karga, he seemed fond of Din and important in town. If Paz remembered right, the man had run or still ran the bounty hunter guild. “Dune, she’s the marshal in town and she was part of the rescue team, I imagine she’d be happy to help for the verd’ika’s sake.” Fett rumbled.

Pausing slightly, Paz furrowed his brows. “…Dune…” He questioned slowly, he had to admit, he had been more focused on Din. “That’s the one with the muscled arms, right?” Paz was sure that was the name of the woman he had spoken with last night.

Thankfully, Fett nodded, Paz letting out a relieved noise that he remembered right.

‘Just stay asleep a little bit longer Din, there be some decent grubb for you when you wake up.’ Paz promised mentally, turning and heading down the ramp to find the marshal office, hoping Dune was already awake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buy’ce = Helmet  
> Verd’ika = Little soldier

**Author's Note:**

> Translate:  
> Udesii = Calm down  
> Beroya = Bounty hunter  
> Alor = Captain  
> Buir = parent


End file.
